Disfigured
by koalakoala
Summary: Emily wakes up to find she's been mauled by a "bear." Or was it a werewolf? One-shot. Sam/Emily.


**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

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My head was numb, heavy, making it hard to think. Where was I? I could hear voices, their words strangely disjointed, around me. I groaned as my head began to throb painfully.

A vaguely familiar voice reached me, slowly. "Emily? Can you hear me?" I tried to speak, but my mouth felt wrong. I couldn't force the words past my throat.

"Sweetheart, you were mauled by a bear in the woods. Sam Uley brought you to me." I finally recognized the voice. It was Sue Clearwater; the closest person to a doctor there was on the reservation.

Mauled by a bear? That didn't seem right. Sam? Memories came pouring back into my brain. _Oh._

I remembered, watching Sam _explode_. Into a werewolf, as he'd said. I remembered his claws, the pain in my head, the blood.

I hadn't been mauled by a _bear_.

I swallowed, and tried to open my eyes. Fortunately, they seemed to be functioning pretty normally. I sat up on the bed, and looked around.

I could see two people in the room, Sue...and Sam. His eyes were averted, his face turned away. Did I really look that terrible? I quickly glanced away.

Mrs. Clearwater looked at me, relief and pity mixed on her face. "I...I did the best I could," she said. She held a small mirror in her hand.

"Can I see?" I asked cautiously, not sure if I really wanted to. The words came ragged, garbled. I tasted blood in my mouth. She hesitated, and Sam spoke up from the back of the room.

"May I speak to Emily alone, Sue?" He held out a hand for the mirror. "Of course," she said, giving it to him. The door closed behind her silently.

I glared at him, but the pain grew stronger, so I stopped. "I want to see my own face, Sam." My voice was clearer now, the ache less intense.

He took a deep breath, and then met my eyes. I was completely overwhelmed by the amount of hatred in his eyes. Only, it wasn't for me—it was for himself.

"Sam?"

"You have no idea how much I...how much I despise myself, Emily. No idea whatsoever," he said in a low tone, his voice raw, his hands shaking. "I didn't mean to hurt you...."

"Do you remember what we were arguing about?" I asked.

He closed his eyes, and his hands stilled. "You wanted me to go see...Leah. Apologize." His voice wavered on her name. His eyes opened, and I saw the pain in them, the regret. For her. Or for me?

I stood, walking shakily over to where he stood, and wrapped my arms around him. Comforting. "And will you?"

"Yes," he sighed, leaning over to rest his head on my shoulder, "Whatever you want." I pulled away. "What if I want to see what you did to me?"

His eyes were now even more regretful. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am," I replied, proud that my voice did not waver. His hands gently reached for my face. Sam unwound the once white bandages, now bloodied, from my head.

Air breathed against my torn skin, cool, yet still painful.

He took my hands, carefully placing them against my face. I felt the deep gashes, carved into my skin. My hand came away red with blood.

"Emily," Sam said, almost a groan. His hand replaced mine, matching his fingers to the wounds on my face. His other hand stroked the other, unmarked side of my face, the smooth skin. I swallowed, hard, ignoring the ache.

"Sam," I whispered, "I forgive you."

"How can you say that?"

"It's easy."

"Look at your _face_, Emily!" Sam said angrily, forcing my fingers around the handle of the mirror. I took a deep breath, and then lifted it in front of my face.

I nearly dropped the mirror. I had considered myself pretty before, not that I was vain, but now? I was barely recognizable. Disfigured.

The wide slashes, claw-marks, ran down the right side of my face. The top one barely missed my eye; the bottom one dragged my mouth into a permanent frown. I turned my face to the right, and I could see no sign of flaws. Tears welled in my eyes, though I tried to hold them back.

"God," I whispered, and the tears began to stream, across the wounds on my face. The salt stung as it touched the raw skin on my face. Sam pried the mirror out of my grip. I hadn't realized I'd been holding it that tightly.

"How can you forgive me now?" he asked, holding me to him, uncaring if the blood and saltwater stained his shirt.

"I still can," I croaked through my tears. "It wasn't your fault."

"I'm a monster, Emily. _I_ did this." His hands stroked my cheeks again. "Did you really mean what you said before? About imprinting?" I asked, my voice shaking.

"Of course I did. I...I love you. I can't understand it, but I still do."

"Sam?" I said, reaching up to stroke his face with my hands, leaving trails of blood on his face, "I think...I love you, too." Sam smiled, half-bitterly, half-real, and closed his eyes. "I can't force you not to. I don't _want_ to." Gently, he pressed his lips against my ruined face, along the marks from his claws.

I held his face carefully in my hands. "It wasn't your fault," I repeated. "It'll take a while to convince me of _that_," Sam replied, sighing.

"I don't care. I'll do it, as long as it takes." And he kissed me, his lips tasting of blood.

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**A/N:** Did you like it? Hate it? Please review.


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